Daemon'Verse
by cloudyjenn
Summary: A fusion between the characters of Supernatural and the world of His Dark Materials which spans most of Dean's life pre-series into a future past season four. Dean/Castiel
1. The Importance of Souls

A/N: This fic crosses Supernatural with _His Dark Materials_ by Philip Pullman. I've only borrowed the concepts of the daemons from Mr. Pullman. I hope you enjoy!

Dean is only nine years old when his daemon settles. His father tells him he is proud of Dean's maturity, but Dean knows it's weird. There just isn't time to play anymore. One night Celeste changes into a wolf to sleep curled protectively around Astrid and when morning comes, she doesn't change again. When Sammy asks him why, Dean tells him it's because he's the big bad wolf and no one will ever mess with him now. It's not until years later that Dean realizes the real reason is because Astrid slept better with Celeste's hulking presence at her back.

It doesn't take Dean long to get used to Celeste's new look. Her bright white fur makes it easy to see her in the darkness of their numerous motel rooms, but it's ok because her dark green eyes and pointed ears alert him to anything hiding in the shadows. No one and more importantly, no creature can sneak up on Dean. It's easier to make new friends when they change schools because the other kids are fascinated by the huge shaggy wolf loping at his side.

Astrid also likes Celeste's new form. She likes to change into something small and light and ride around on Celeste's shoulders. Dean's never quite sure what he'll see in the morning when he rolls over towards Celeste and checks Astrid's latest form. Sparrow, bat, squirrel, cat, rabbit. Astrid's been them all and more. Sam's curiosity shows itself in Astrid's always changing form and Dean senses it when John begins to worry that Astrid won't ever settle.

Sam doesn't notice it though. He won't admit it, but Dean knows that Sam believes deep down in his heart that John cares more about his hunt than his kids. He can see how it begins to affect Sam and John's relationship, notices it when Astrid starts sleeping burrowed into Amanda's side less and less. Dean remembers a time when Astrid wouldn't allow herself to be taken away from their father's brindled boxer daemon for more than few moments. But by the time Sam is six years old, Astrid almost always ends up piled atop Celeste in their shared motel bed. Celeste doesn't mind having Astrid close by; she prefers it in fact. But things are awkward with Amanda and Astrid dancing around each other so cautiously. Especially during those years when Celeste still wanted to curl up next to Amanda's soft warmth half the time herself.

But whenever Sam needs him, Dean is there. And so is Celeste. Sometimes it's easy, like when Sammy wants something to eat and Dean has to make him another can of spaghettio's. Other times, it's much harder. Like when Astrid asks Celeste to talk about their mother's daemon. Dean isn't good with words and neither is Celeste, but they make an effort because Sammy deserves to remember.

"He was awesome," Celeste says when a five year old Sam asks for stories yet again. She changes herself into a doe, taking care to imitate the color as best she can and although it's a good likeness, Celeste isn't nearly elegant enough to do him justice. "Like this, you know? Only prettier and shorter. He used to jump into my bed with me and sit while Mary told Dean stories."

Astrid reaches up with cat's paws and pats Celeste on the side of the face. "Did he love me too?"

"Of course, dummy," Celeste says, nosing Astrid's paws. "Ethan loved everyone in the whole world, but us most of all. And Amanda too."

A cloud passes over Astrid's eyes. "Does Amanda miss Ethan as much as Daddy misses Mommy?," she whispers and Sam shifts in his chair, embarrassed by the question. Celeste changes into a beagle and Dean gathers her to his chest.

"Yeah," Dean answers. "Pastor Jim told me that sometimes when people fall in love, their daemons fall in love even harder."

"Why?" Sammy asks, wide-eyed.

Dean shrugs. "I guess because daemons aren't as good at hiding stuff," he says, but really he doesn't know the answer. He determines then and there not to ever fall in love because he doesn't want Celeste to be as sad as Amanda.

* * *

Sammy is almost fourteen when Astrid finally settles. John thinks it's because Sam doesn't want to grow up and face the life they lead. But Dean knows it's because Sam's mind works too hard. Astrid doesn't like the idea of being only one thing for the rest of her life. He doesn't blame Sam, but everyone has to settle sooner or later. When Sam asks Dean how it feels, he tells him honestly that he'll love whatever form his daemon chooses more than he ever imagined.

The next morning, Astrid hops down from Sam's bed as a red fox and never changes again.

* * *

Ghosts don't have daemons.

Dean thinks this is the scariest part of their job. Almost everything else they hunt has some form of daemon, even if it's a sick twisted version. Even demons have them because their hosts are still alive. But ghosts are dead and daemons always disappear when a person dies. When Dean is seven, he asks his father where daemons go when people die. John tells him that they go to heaven, but Dean can tell he doesn't really believe that. Dean doesn't believe in heaven either.

Seeing a ghost wandering helplessly, lost without their daemon, is awful. Their sightless eyes bear horrible pain and loss. It always reminds Dean of the time when he was eight and accidently got locked out of their motel without Celeste. Waiting for his father to return while Sam crouches beside him is one of the worst experiences of his life. Hearing Celeste scratch at the door and knowing he couldn't reach out to touch her felt like his heart is being ripped out of his chest. By the time John returned, Dean was curled into a tight panicked ball and Sam was sobbing hysterically. He doesn't want to go through that ever again and can't imagine how terrifying it must feel to be stuck like that forever.

Ghosts make Dean unspeakably sad and he is always the most satisfied when they put one to rest. Every time it happens, he always sits a little closer to Celeste's side on the ride back to their motel.

* * *

Dean's first kiss happens when he is fifteen years old. The girl's name is Blair and her goose daemon is named Aaron. Dean swears Blair is the prettiest girl he's ever seen with her shining black hair and dark blue eyes. Celeste thinks the same thing about Aaron and for two weeks solid, they do nothing, but talk to each other about the both of them. Sam threatens to punch Dean, but he doesn't care. Especially not when Blair lets Dean put his arms around her waist and press his lips against her mouth behind a school gymnasium in Phoenix, Arizona. The feeling of her firm wet lips makes Dean flush hotly and it just gets worse when he feels Celeste nuzzle the side of Aaron's neck.

Dean's not stupid. He's seen cable TV. He knows things always heat up when the daemons start touching each other, but it's so much more extreme than he realizes when he feels the light soft feathers of Aaron's wings brush and caress Celeste's fur. It sizzles up Dean's spine, making him feel electric with pleasure and when Celeste lets out a growl, Dean matches her with a moan against Blair's mouth.

It is only one kiss, but for the rest of their lives, Dean and Celeste show a distinct preference for daemons with wings.

* * *

Sam leaves them when he turns 18.

It's easily the worst day of Dean's life up to that point. It's bad enough that Sam, his Sammy, is leaving them. Celeste is beside herself, her voice deepening with distress as she begs Astrid to reconsider. But Sam is adamant. He didn't choose this life, he says. He wants something different, something stable. The kind of life where he can have his own home and maybe even his own kids who will grow up knowing their father loves them.

Dean won't ever forget the look on John's face. Angry isn't a strong enough word. Anger is the only way John knows how to show hurt and Sam's words hurt worse than just about anything, Dean reckons. John and Sam face each other across a room, both standing rigid with Dean helpless between them. They shout hurtful words back and forth, arrows that know their targets exactly. Amanda's fur bristles a dark line down her back and Astrid's tail hangs low between her legs as she growls continuously.

When John tells Sam not to come back if he walks out the door, Dean knows that's exactly what will happen. Sam turns on his heel and storms out without a second glance. Astrid follows, but she stops for the briefest moment and looks back. Not at Celeste, but at Dean. Their eyes meet for a split second and Dean sees Sam's devastation as clearly as if he'd written an essay about it.

Then her fluffy red tail whips around the corner and for the next four years, Dean only sees Sam twice.

Celeste cries herself to sleep that night, but Dean only stares at the ceiling, eyes dry and mind blank.

* * *

Amanda isn't the same after that. She was never an excitable daemon, but after Sam leaves them, she seems even more lost. Always ready during a hunt, of course, but despondent and unapproachable otherwise. John talks to Dean like nothing happened. He smiles and jokes as much as he ever did, but Dean can see his unhappiness in Amanda's slumping shoulders, in her tired green eyes.

John throws himself into his job, into his search for the yellow eyed demon with more fervor than ever before. Soon enough, Dean is given more responsibilities, is even sent on a few hunts by himself. It's not a conscious decision necessarily, but Dean starts to follow the letter of John's law with precision he never attempted previously. Not to show Sam up, but rather to relieve John's guilt about dragging his kids into this life. He shows John with his every move that this is a good life for Dean. That he excels at the job and wouldn't choose anything else for himself.

Dean is a hard worker and a devoted son, but John Winchester has two kids and Dean just isn't good enough to make up for the both of them. Whatever happiness John feels about Dean's decisions can't erase his pain over Sam's.

This is when Dean realizes for certain that John loves his kids.

He's just not sure if John loves them for who they are or because they are all that he has left of Mary.

* * *

Dean is twenty-three the first time he makes love.

It's not his first time having sex, of course. Dean is far too curious about the mysteries of sex to wait for very long, so his first time ever comes at sixteen. Her name is Catie and she is more cute than beautiful, but Dean doesn't care because she doesn't say no when he starts pushing his hand up her skirt in the basement of her parent's house. It's almost over before it starts because Celeste wants to be involved and Catie's not quite ready for that. This is when Dean learns that just because you are sharing your body with someone doesn't mean they want to share their daemon.

Dean is very careful after that and if it ever feels like there's something missing, Dean just buries it deep down and concentrates on his next conquest.

Then he meets Cassie and everything changes.

She's unlike any girl Dean's ever known. She's smart and confident and when they fight, it's even more fun than the sex he has with other girls. When he spots her sitting at a bar, stroking her fingers through her gorgeous swan daemon's feathers, he only means to add her to his list of one-night stands. Three weeks later, they are still together and Dean finally knows what's been missing. When he is with Cass, Celeste is just as welcome with Eric. It's not just sex anymore. It's love and it's real and for the first time in his life, Dean finds himself telling a girl everything.

Even after she breaks his heart, Dean dreams about her soft curves and full lips and long gentle feathers brushing over Celeste's fur.

It's three years before Dean really moves on and even then, sex isn't quite the same.

* * *

The first time Dean sees Sam after he left, Sam doesn't see Dean.

While John follows a weak lead on the yellow eyed demon, Dean gives himself the task of investigating some demonic activity that just happens to be very near the college Sam chose to attend. He tells himself he won't go near Sam. Celeste agrees. If Sam doesn't want to see them, they won't go near him.

It's not really Dean's fault that the trail of demonic activity leads him on campus. It's not like he can let some poor bastards get killed because Sammy's too much of a bitch to stay in contact with his family. Dean's not entirely sure where Sam lives anyway, so it's not like he'll have to work on avoiding him.

So, it's really really not his fault when he spies Sam coming out of the library in the late afternoon.

Actually, it's Celeste that sees him first, but she doesn't have to say anything to Dean. He can tell by the way she tenses up, by the mixed shot of excitement and dread that raises the fur on her back. Dean almost doesn't want to turn his head to look. He's not sure what he's more afraid to see, Sam miserable or Sam happy. He doesn't do cowardly very well though and so he turns.

His breath catches in his throat. Sam is walking along beside a few other kids. A short dark-haired guy with glasses and a monkey daemon crawling over his shoulders. A beefy jock type with a hilariously small sparrow daemon perched on his shoulders. And most of all, Dean figures, a hot chick with long blond hair and a pretty classy looking greyhound daemon trotting along at her heels.

He takes them all in an instant, and then his attention belongs only to Sam. Who is smiling and joking and...carefree. Perfectly at ease and apparently unaware that the 'accidental' death a few buildings over was no by means an accident.

"Astrid," Celeste whines. She trembles with the desire to bound over the nearby bushes to Sam's daemon, but she won't go. And neither will Dean.

Let Sam stay carefree. Dean has work to do.

* * *

Dean is 24 the first time he has sex with a guy.

He's never been comfortable with that part of himself, the part that sometimes notices guys the way he notices girls. He feels it first in middle school when he accidently develops a crush on this stupid little music geek named Brent. It's bad enough he feels this way about a guy; Dean is mortified that his crush is on a total dork. This isn't something he could ever live down, so Dean squashes his feelings as best he can and flirts more than ever with the football team's cheerleaders.

The pattern continues as he grows older. He always notices girls first, but at each new school, there's one boy that catches his attention. Usually, he is quiet or soulful or dorky and the ones that really occupy Dean's mind are all three at once. Dean never acts on it. Even when he's truly tempted, he just imagines what his father would think and walks the other way. He wonders, sometimes, if Sam can tell, but Sam never says anything and for that, Dean is extremely grateful.

After Cassie leaves him, Dean meets Alex on the campus of a college in Missouri. Dean is walking into the history department with a fake name ready to use on a professor interested in local legends. He knows John will bitch at him if Dean dawdles and he knows he'll probably regret finally giving into these frightening desires, but he is still hurting from Cassie and he just wants to feel good again. So, when he sees Alex coming out the building's front door, a calico curled up in his arms, Dean strikes up a conversation.

It's not love; probably wouldn't have been even if Dean had the time or desire for commitment. But Alex has a shy smile and big brown eyes and it's intense attraction. That's enough for Dean. They promise to meet up at a local bar and later that night, after the spirit's been laid to rest, Dean finds out how good it feels to relax and let someone else lead for once. Because Alex is quiet, but he's forceful in the bedroom and it's so exciting, Dean is almost ashamed of himself.

He doesn't go to bed with men very often after that, but every time he does, Dean remembers every detail in perfect clarity.

* * *

Dean sees Sam one more time before they start hunting together. This time around, it's completely unexpected and not a little awkward.

John sends Dean on ahead to investigate a strange disappearance in Bay City, Michigan while he ties up loose ends on a lengthy hunt in Kentucky. Dean takes half a day to annoy his way through most of the cops and half the residents in town with his faked FBI badge before he concludes that there's nothing particularly supernatural about this case. But he knows he has to wait for his dad to confirm, so he decides to spend his one free night getting drunk in a local bar and maybe finding some willing person to come back to his motel with him.

He chooses the bar with the most beat up sign hanging over its entrance and walks up to the hottest bartender, asking for a beer.

That's when he hears a familiar and very unexpected voice several feet down the bar from him request another round of shots. It's like a moment from a movie. Dean hears him, his head snaps to the side, then suddenly everyone standing in his way clears out, leaving him a perfect view of his stupid little brother.

"Sam?" he says without thought.

Sam's head snaps the same way Dean's does and he stares, unable to reconcile who he's seeing.

"Dean?"

Dean gets to his feet and faces his brother, expression neutral and Sam follows his lead. To his dismay though, their daemons give them away. Celeste bounds up to Astrid and unceremoniously starts licking her face while Astrid squirms with pleasure. Through Celeste, Dean's senses fill up with Sammy Sammy Sammy. His throat closes off and he only just keeps himself from shutting his eyes against the deluge.

"What..." Sam falters as Celeste lifts a paw and flicks Astrid's ear the way she always used to when they were kids. "What are you doing here?" he tries again after a moment.

"Gotta hunt," Dean grunts. "You?"

"Spring break," Sam answers, shifting with discomfort. "My friend, Derek. He...His family's got this cabin on the lake and we came up here..."

"Yeah," Dean says and all he can think is that Sam has people in his life that Dean doesn't know. It's just wrong. They used to share everything and now there's so much about Sam's life, about Sam, that Dean just doesn't know.

"What kind of hunt?" Sam asks, his tone suddenly worried.

"The kind that's a bust," Dean offers, willing to put Sam at ease, but not to go into details. Sam's not the only person who can keep his life to himself.

They say nothing for another moment. Sam's eyes flick over the walls and they may have been apart for the last two years, but Dean can recognize when his brother is trying to think of something to say. He's seen it enough times when Sam tries talking to their father. It occurs to him then that he might as well be talking to a stranger, except for the way their daemons are huddled together on the floor, quietly relearning each other while the humans speak awkwardly. It's times like this when Dean envies his own daemon and her ability to communicate with touch.

"I thought all the cool kids went to Mexico for Spring break," Dean blurts, just to have something to say. "Not that you're cool," he adds, which manages to draw a little smile from Sam.

"That was last year," he says. Dean doesn't miss the hint of pride in his tone. He wonders if this is Sam's way of telling Dean that he can take care of himself, that he can make friends and travel and have a life all by himself. Even if it isn't, Dean gets a little pissed. That's not the point. Dean always knew Sam could be and do whatever he wanted. What he doesn't get is why Sam thinks he has to do it without his family.

"Well, that's just peachy, Sammy," Dean tosses off. He takes a swig of his beer and then slams it down. "Glad you're having all kinds of fun."

"Dean," Sam starts, impatience in his voice, but Dean just shakes his head. He doesn't want to hear it and quite frankly, he's already tired of this conversation.

"Never mind, Sam," he says before taking another gulp of his beer. Dragging up a crumpled five from his pocket, he lays it beside the half full container and kicks at Celeste's tail to get her attention. She doesn't want to leave, not really, but if they stay, it'll just end in a fight and Dean's not in the mood. "Look, Dad's coming in tomorrow morning. I'm guessing we'll be gone by tomorrow night, so I'd hang out at that cabin all day if I were you," he warns. "See ya around, Sammy," he says and turns to leave, Celeste trailing after him.

"Dean, wait," Sam calls after him, trotting up and grabbing his arm to turn him. Dean shrugs him off and glares. "Look, you don't have to leave. I know things are weird, but they don't have to be." Dean snorts. "No, seriously, man. It was Dad I had that fight with, not you."

"Yeah, but you walked out on both of us, so you know, I'm just trying to give you what you wanted," he says through clenched teeth. "A normal life doesn't include me."

When he turns to leave a second time, Sam doesn't stop him and Dean walks all the way back to his motel room alone, barely seeing anything along the way. His dad joins him the next morning and they are gone by nightfall. Dean doesn't tell John about Sam and it's another two years before his sees his brother again.

What happens at their next meeting changes both their lives forever.

* * *

It turns out the hot blond with the greyhound daemon is Sam's girlfriend, Jessica. Dean only meets her once before she ends up pinned to her bedroom ceiling, fire blossoming out around her broken body. As he drags Sam away from the bed, screaming his rage and grief, Dean sees her daemon explode in a shower of golden sparks and knows that Sam won't ever be the same again.

* * *

Dean always thought that Sam was nothing like their father. But he quickly realizes it's just because they always wanted two different things from life. When Jessica dies, Dean sees their father in Sam, in Sam's grief, in the way Astrid stares off into nothing and cries at night over the empty space beside her. He sees their father in Sam's relentless determination to find what killed Jess. It's Sam and it's John, so Dean doesn't question his decision to help Sam hunt down the bastard, but Dean secretly happy he broke things off with Cassie. This here, the way Sam looks and feels, this is why Dean always promised himself not to fall in love. He renews that childhood promise and throws himself into the hunt.

There's no time for love anyhow. Without their father there to make decisions, Dean and Sam stumble across bigger and scarier hunts than either have ever encountered. Through it all, Dean watches Sam sink further into himself, cutting himself off from the hurt and all he can do is keep the kid alive.

Then the dreams start and Dean knows he's way out of his league. He needs John's experience. He needs his support and most of all, Celeste needs Amanda's comforting presence. But John stays stubbornly hidden and Dean fumbles through dealing with Sam's growing problems.

When John finally shows up, he's dead less than a week later and it's literally Dean's fault.

* * *

When Dean realizes the deal that John's made on his behalf, he is angrier than he's ever been before. This isn't how it was supposed to end, not for John. Dean always knew John would go down fighting, go down killing something evil or protecting lives or both. Not like this, not by giving up and giving himself, offering himself right into the hands of the evil motherfucker that John's been hunting almost Dean's whole life. He is angry because John deserves better and because anger is easier than guilt.

When his mother's daemon puffs out of existence, Dean is running out of their home, clutching Sammy to his chest. When his father's daemon disappears, Dean is there to see Amanda's eyes turn to him one last time, to see her pain and her love and her end.

Weeks later, Dean finds out that John's suffering in hell and if there really is a heaven for daemons, it wouldn't matter because Amanda is simply gone. Celeste walks closer to Astrid; the two are inseparable because Dean and Sam can't talk about John without fighting and it is only through their daemons that they find comfort. Dean is no longer surprised when strangers assume that he and Sam are lovers. Celeste and Astrid always touch and for a solid year, Dean is poured into Sam and Sam into Dean.

So, it is with no regret or hesitation that Dean makes the exact same deal for Sam that John made for him.

It is Celeste's idea. Her eyes, ragged with grief, implore Dean as she crawls into his lap, all sixty pounds of her and begs him to save Astrid. She only has to ask once before Dean is heading to the crossroads. Celeste knows what she is asking him. It is Dean that will suffer when they die. But Dean doesn't care. He needs to protect Sam.

He needs Sam.

The deal is only a year and it's shitty and Dean feels nothing, but relief when it's settled.

* * *

Hell is the absence of God.

_Daemons are a gift from God._ Dean's heard the old sayings. _Daemons are God's way of saying He loves us._

During his last year, Dean imagines hell as fire and brimstone and lava.

But hell isn't flame and burning flesh and physical torment.

Hell is being without Celeste.

* * *

After forty years of anguish and torture, Dean drags himself out of a shallow grave and finds Celeste staring down at him with wide eyes and a crimson mark streaked through the pure white fur on her shoulder.

In retrospect, Dean is glad they are alone because after his legs clear the dirt hole, he is on Celeste, kneeling in the broken grass and rocking her in his arms. There are questions, but they wait. For now, there is only the feeling of finding and being found.

* * *

Dean is scared out of his skull when he meets the love of his life.

There's plenty to be scared about just then. Some god-awful motherfucker's pulled him from hell, no doubt for some extremely evil and uncomfortable purpose. Said god-awful motherfucker's very presence is shaking the windows and roof nearly off the barn where he and Bobby are squatting. For the first time in his many deaths, Dean's about to be pulled apart and ripped to shreds without Sammy at his side and he's not ready to say goodbye to Celeste after endless years without her.

Then the doors blow open and he walks in and just like that, Dean knows whatever this is is more powerful than he ever imagined because only the truly powerful creatures can pull off looking that_ bored _while strolling past protective symbols that should keep out anything Dean's ever known.

Dean's thought is confirmed when bullets pierce his body without so much as making him flinch and punctuated when Dean plunges Ruby's magic knife into his chest and the being just smirks before knocking Bobby out with just a touch of his fingers.

All this is not what truly terrifies Dean. It's that he does it without a daemon at his side.

He walks without a soul.

It's not like ghosts with their dead blank eyes and wispy incorporeal bodies. His eyes gleam with intent and his mouth speaks words that send icy waves down Dean's spine. He tells Dean he is the one who saved him from hell and that he is an angel of the Lord. Dean doesn't believe him for a second. If God were real, his angels would be beautiful with round smiling faces and golden blond hair and huge white wings sprouting off their backs. They would be accompanied by daemons of purest light like in all the images of angels painted by great masters.

They would not wear tattered trench coats or have dirty soot-colored wings or be without a familiar companion.

Angels don't have daemons, Castiel tells him. Daemons are made of emotion. They are God's gift to humans, a gift that angels don't share. He tells Dean this form is not his and the vessel's daemon sleeps with her human.

Dean doesn't really know what that means, but he doesn't like it. And he doesn't like when Castiel tells him that God had work for him. Castiel is just scary enough for Dean not to tell him to fuck off, but his stubborn silence must get the point across because a second later, the angel is gone and Dean is alone with Bobby unconscious on the floor. He desperately hopes he never sees Castiel again.

It's less than a year later that the same thought scares the fuck out of him.

* * *

Dean's never been as attracted to anyone as he is to Castiel. In many ways, he is exactly what Dean's always craved. Reserved, intense, nerdy as hell. Dean figures that if Castiel was a regular person and had gone to high school, he'd have been in something incredibly dorky and hot like Latin Club or Choir or Math-letes. He'd have been the boy that Dean followed around that year and when they left, like they always did, Dean would have been seriously depressed.

As it is, he feels a twinge of regret every time Castiel flaps away without so much as a goodbye.

But Castiel is not a person. The body he wears belongs to someone else and he is still empty to Dean. Celeste watches Castiel, regret and sadness in her gaze because she likes Castiel as much as Dean does, but she can't touch him. Won't touch him. No one's ever touched Celeste, not even Sam and so she can't understand Castiel. She can't feel him.

Not that they could really ever have anything, since Castiel is a freaking angel, of course. Even if it weren't six kinds of wrong, Castiel says he doesn't have any feelings. At least not feelings outside of love for God and a desire to serve. Dean believes him because he's got too much to worry about with Sam's descent into darkness and besides, why would an angel lie?

Eight months after they meet, Dean stands with Castiel in a room and watches Castiel turn his back on everything he's ever known, on Heaven itself, to ally himself with Dean.

That's when he learns angels can lie. Even to themselves.

* * *

The apocalypse never happens. At least not in Dean's lifetime. Lucifer does rise, but it doesn't end the world.

Dean's not disappointed, of course, but after weeks of battle and sleeping where he falls with his arms curled around Celeste, it is somewhat anticlimactic when a group of angels so powerful they don't have a word for them swoop down and throw Lucifer straight back into hell.

Throughout those last months, Dean goes back and forth between worrying about Sam and about Castiel. Sam, who sunk into the emptiness of guilt and became consumed with killing enough demons to make up for his role in bringing the battle to Earth. And Castiel, who is so injured during his lonely fight against the archangels that he can't use his powers for days. Dean forces Castiel to stay with them, in sight, where Dean can protect him. When Sam learns what Castiel has done, he becomes just as protective.

Dean stops pretending that his feelings are just a crush. But he never says anything to Castiel. He never tempts him into falling, tries not to allow his feelings near the surface when Castiel is around to pick up on them. It is hard sometimes though, like when Castiel falls asleep next to Dean, his forehead resting against Dean's collarbone or when Castiel shouts out to draw away the attention of four demons that surround Sam.

Castiel stops pretending he doesn't have feelings. But he never says anything to Dean. Words aren't necessary when his actions speak so very loudly.

One night, near the end of the battles, Celeste lays her head on Dean's stomach and growls contentedly when Dean strokes his fingers over Castiel's mark over her shoulder.

"I wish I could love him," she whispers and sadness weighs on Dean. He is doomed surely. There is no moving on from this and if Dean survives the war, he will end his days alone.

He is in love with Castiel and Celeste is not.

* * *

During the final battle, Dean and Castiel are separated. He doesn't have time to worry about him though, as demon after demon attacks. At least Sam manages to stay by Dean's side and it is how he imagined they would die. Like how he imagined John would die. Fighting evil. Side by side with his brother. Celeste and Astrid shine brightly against the muck and the blood and the dead bodies as they strike and kill possessed daemons. Gold sparks catch Dean's eyes, tugging at his gaze time and again as more and more daemons perish.

His last glimpse of Castiel before it's all over is of the angel coming face to face with Zachariah. His stomach clenches and a burly black-haired demon nearly succeeds in gutting Dean in his distraction. Somehow, he knows he won't see Castiel again and it hurts worse than he could have ever imagined. He throws himself into the fray, rage fueling his killing instincts and even Sam's eyes widen at Dean's wrath. Astrid tries to touch Celeste, to calm and steady, but Celeste shakes her off. They are soldiers, avenging warriors and they will kill as many demons as it takes to make up for Castiel's demise and they will know it's never enough.

* * *

When it's all said and done, Dean figures he shouldn't have underestimated Zachariah's lack of understanding.

The battlefield is littered with corpses. The entire western half of Illinois is gone. Thousands have died and Dean is searching desperately through the wreckage for a glimpse of a familiar trench coat. Sam is beside him, wordlessly helping. Dean knows he is being unreasonable. It is a miracle that he and Sam survived. But he won't stop until he sees a body and knows for certain.

"Dean!" Astrid calls out, spots him first. Before Dean can see where she is looking, Celeste is galloping away. He runs after her, trusting and she leads him to where Castiel lays under a bowed, but not quite broken oak tree. His trench coat is closed around him, as if someone had wrapped him in it.

"Castiel?" Dean gasps out. Castiel doesn't open his eyes and Dean's heart stops. It's really true, he's really gone, but before Dean can react, can even think to react, Castiel's coat stirs. Sam and Astrid arrive at their side, staring. Castiel's coat wiggles more.

"What in the world," Sam murmurs.

Celeste's body turns rigid and her breath stutters in her throat as the edge of Castiel's coat falls away to reveal a snow white dove.

Confusion muddles Dean's already tired mind. He can't decide why Castiel's corpse is being watched over by a bird, but then Celeste lets out a quivery growl and Dean instantly gets it. His confusion is blown away by amazement and relief so powerful, it brings him to his knees.

"Oh Dean, oh...oh she's so beautiful," Celeste moans.

Dean watches his daemon fall in love.

The dove cocks her head at Celeste and hops across Castiel's stomach.

"Celeste?" she coos deeply.

The empty spaces fill in. This is Castiel's soul and she is new and strong and gorgeous. But it isn't what Dean wanted, not if it meant that Castiel couldn't be an angel anymore. He reaches out and shakes Castiel's shoulders.

"Hey, wake up," he says, gentle, but urgent. Castiel's eyes open and he stares blankly into the branches overhead. "Cas?"

"Dean," he says to the branches, then finally turns to look at him. "What happened?"

"You...I don't know exactly," he says, hating himself for how shaky his voice sounds. "Your...I think you lost your grace," he whispers and looks down. It's the first time Castiel notices the bird, _the daemon_, on his belly.

"Hello," he says simply. They contemplate each other and it was almost funny how calm they are, though Dean didn't feel like laughing.

"Hello, Castiel," his daemon says.

"I remember now," Castiel says. Sam helps Castiel sit up and they all listen with horror as Castiel explains how he fought with Zachariah, how he wasn't strong enough to defeat him and how Zachariah wanted to do more than end Castiel's life. He wanted to punish him for his insolence. He wanted to punish Castiel by allowing him to live and know exactly what he'd lost. He'd torn Castiel's grace from his body, leaving him a shell and sent him down, trapping him in Jimmy Novak's body while allowing Jimmy to finally go home. Castiel can't remember how he went from an empty body to a person with a daemon.

For the first time in his life, Dean really truly believes in God.

"Cas," Dean says, hands shuddering with the desire to touch Castiel. "I'm so sorry, man. I can't believe that bastard took your grace."

Castiel stretches one finger towards the dove, mouth parting in surprised pleasure as he strokes the soft feathers of her head. "But what I have now," he says, voice choked. His hands cup around the dove's body and he lifts her to his face, nuzzles her. "My own Grace."

Celeste whines softly, drawing Castiel's attention and he offers Grace to her. Sam's abruptly leaves with a simple pat to Dean's shoulder and that's how he knows this will be a significant moment. Sam always picked up on those so much easier than Dean.

When Grace's feathers touch Celeste's fur, a cascade of hot shivers shudders down Dean's body and he sighs, murmuring nonsense words. He is touching Castiel, truly touching him, touching love, feeling love and it's never been like this with anyone else. This is why Amanda was never the same after Ethan and why Dean will never be the same and without thinking, he reaches out and rubs the back of his knuckles across Grace's left wing. It's more than intimacy, closer than familiar, deeper than claiming. Castiel gasps, blindly reaching out to bury his fingers in Celeste's fur.

Dean pouring in Castiel and Castiel pouring into Dean.

* * *

When Dean is 31, he breaks his childhood promise not to fall in love and he never once regrets it.


	2. Family

A/N: This story takes place a few weeks later.

The first thing Dean noticed when he struggled into his hotel room, one hand grasping a bag of food and a case of beer under the other arm, was the pile of daemons on the floor in front of the tv.

The room was a little nicer than their usual ramshackle abodes because Dean had saved the owner's life during the final battle and she'd offered him the free room as 'the least she could do.' He kinda got the feeling that she was willing to offer a whole lot more, from the way she squeezed his arm and smiled soft and warm, but then Grace fluttered down onto Celeste's back and she got the point. Not that Grace was trying to make one. More like she didn't know how to not to be totally obvious yet.

Which made what Dean was seeing all the more interesting.

Sam and Castiel were sitting on either end of the typically overstuffed hotel couch, turned towards the television and apparently engrossed in an old rerun of MacGyver. They weren't touching or acknowledging each other's presence in the slightest.

Yet, there on the floor, Astrid had Grace pinned down with one paw while the other very intently groomed Grace's feathers. One wing stretched out under Astrid's paw, Grace laid back and cooed softly, head lolling. For all that their humans were paying attention to them, Grace and Astrid might have belonged to two other people entirely.

It wasn't that he was jealous. It'd take a hell of a lot more than some cuddling to make Dean jealous. Not when he was the one who pulled Castiel deep under the blankets at night and stroked his fingers down Grace's feathers. Astrid could touch Grace all she wanted, but Dean was the only human allowed that right. No, he wasn't concerned. Just confused. He'd been with Sam and Castiel almost non-stop for months, so how did he miss them develop a close enough friendship that their daemons felt the need to groom each other?

"Am I interrupting something?"

Dean's voice succeeded in drawing Castiel's attention away from the television, though Sam just flicked his hand in Dean's general direction and continued watching the show. A gentle and secret smile curved the corners of Castiel's mouth. Dean felt his stomach flip over in that pleasant way he'd come to associate with being around Castiel.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said. "We are watching television." The depth of feeling behind that statement would have surprised Dean coming from anyone else. Castiel sounded awed at the simplicity of the activity. Dean tried to remember if he'd ever seen Castiel watch tv before and couldn't think of a single time.

"Yeah and how do you like it?"

Celeste approached Astrid and Grace with caution. Dean felt her twin desires to join in the fun and to not intrude. Indecision didn't suit Dean, but luckily, only a brief moment passed before Grace stood and shook her wings out. She hopped across the floor to Celeste and fluttered up to settle in her usual place, nestled down between Celeste's shoulder blades. A sense of calm fell like a warm cloak around Dean, easing the disquiet he now felt whenever Celeste couldn't touch either Astrid or Grace.

"It's very interesting," Castiel enthused as Dean started setting their food out on the room's one table. "I can see how it must be very useful."

"Useful?" Maybe the news or the weather channel. Dean glanced at the tv, then to Sam's glazed expression. Certainly not MacGyver. "How do you figure that?"

"Your..." Castiel paused and swallowed hard. On Celeste's back, Grace fidgeted and Dean sensed how awkward she felt. "Our lives," Castiel corrected himself, "are so short. Even if we live for every moment, we cannot possibly accomplish all that this world offers. I always wondered why humans spent any of their time watching television, much less hours in one day. Now I understand that television offers a way for humans to experience that which they cannot in their own lives."

"What, you mean like saving the day with a stick and a band-aid?" Dean asked, smiling. He threw a fortune cookie at Sam's head. "Come on, kid. Soup's on."

"Dude," Sam exclaimed, flinging the cookie back at Dean. "Stop it."

"Hey, I'm just trying to make sure you get your three squares a day," Dean complained as he whipped a pair of chopsticks at Sam like a Frisbee. This time, Sam caught the chopsticks and just rolled his eyes, but Grace only had a second of warning to shoot off Celeste's back before Astrid was on her. The two daemons rolled end over end across the hotel room floor, biting and batting at one another. Celeste had the size advantage, but Astrid made up for it in cleverness and so, after a few minutes of fighting dirty, Celeste ended up in the same position Grace had been when Dean got back to the room; flat on her back, pinned down by Astrid's paws.

"You suck," Astrid said, smug with her victory that both Sam and Dean knew was somewhat fake. Celeste would never do anything to hurt Astrid.

"Shut up," Celeste growled. "Bitch."

"Jerk," Astrid retorted, baring her teeth in a smile. Grace, who'd retreated to Castiel's shoulder to watch the fight, now flew in a circle over Astrid's head and then landed on it. She peered down at Celeste and Dean had a moment of vertigo as he connected with Celeste, curious about how both Astrid and Grace glaring down at his daemon would look. He laughed at the disparity between Astrid's superiority and Grace's concern.

"Are you alright?" Grace asked in that low throaty tone Celeste loved so well.

"Yes," Celeste confirmed. She rolled over onto her stomach, dislodging Astrid who fell with a whining squeal and Grace, who lived up to her namesake by simply flying back to Castiel's shoulder, not a feather out of place. "Takes more than a pup to damage me."

MacGyver's end credits finally began rolling down the screen and Sam stood, scooping Astrid up into his arms on his way to the table. "Ha ha," Sam deadpanned. He fell into his chair and started eating over the top of Astrid's head. "I could take you and you know it," he declared after a swallow.

"Yeah, 'cause I always let you win," Dean shot back.

At his side of the table, Castiel distractedly separated his food into neat little piles as he watched Dean and Sam bickering. He hadn't quite gotten used to eating yet. Dean forced him to eat at every meal to keep his strength up, but Castiel had confessed that the relief of quenching his hunger didn't override the uncomfortable thickness of being full. Not being Castiel's daddy, Dean didn't press the issue, but he did make Cas eat at least three times daily, if not very much each time.

"You doing ok there, Cas?" Dean asked. Under the table, Dean felt Celeste lay her head in Castiel's lap where Sam couldn't see it. Castiel's fingers, strong and sure, carded through the shaggy fur at the back of Celeste's neck and Dean felt profound affection unfold in his chest, sweeping out through the rest of his body.

"It's like television," Castiel said. He sounded casual, but Dean saw right through him. Whatever Castiel was talking about made the ex-angel feel somewhat melancholy, judging by the wistful quality of his tone.

""What's like television?" Dean asked dutifully, passing Castiel an eggroll with a pointed expression. Castiel tore the end off and dug out the insides as he continued talking.

"Watching you and Sam is like watching television," Castiel explained. "It is a way for me to experience what I can't have."

Dean's stomach felt like it tumbled into his knees. He didn't even know what that really meant, but he didn't like it. "What can't you have? Family?" He pointed his chopstick at Sam and then back at his chest. "And what are we? Chopped liver?"

Castiel's head tipped to an inquisitive angle. "No," he answered, obviously understanding that Dean didn't literally mean chopped liver, but confused as to what the phrase did mean. "You are my boyfriend," he said, using the word that Sam taught him last week to drive Dean crazy. "And Sam is my boyfriend's brother. We aren't members of the same family."

"Um, excuse me?"

Dean's angry reply died in his throat at Sam's incredulous outburst. Astrid glared at Castiel, her fur raising on the back of her neck.

"What wrong?" Castiel asked, frowning at them both.

"I'm your boyfriend's brother? That's how you think of me?" Sam was never good at hiding his hurt and this time was no different. Relieved he wasn't on the receiving end of Sam's kicked puppy expression, Dean sat back in his chair and watched, fascinated. Part of him thought he should probably say or do something, but the image of Astrid nosing through Grace's feathers returned to his mind's eye and he felt a burning curiosity to see where this conversation went.

That and a perverse part of Dean enjoyed watching Castiel experience Sam's ability to make even a simple argument sound like a lover's spat.

"You are my boyfriend's brother," Castiel answered, nonplussed. Dean winced. Castiel still had a lot to learn about humans.

"But that's all you see me as?" Sam pressed. "After everything we've been through, you don't consider me a friend?"

"Ah, no." Castiel's eyes widened. "I mean, yes. No, you misunderstand me, Sam," he said, shifting in discomfort. "I didn't mean to imply that my feelings for you were based only on your relationship with Dean. You are very important to me."

"Fuck, man, get a room," Dean muttered, quickly easing past fascinated and into embarrassed by Castiel's frank admission. Sam and Castiel both ignored him.

"More important than anything?" Sam asked.

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. That question was a bit much, in his opinion, but the intense gleam in Sam's eye convinced Dean to keep his mouth shut. Sam had a point coming up somewhere, Dean felt certain.

"I don't understand," Castiel said. He gathered Grace to his chest and stroked her rapidly like he did when he was nervous. Dean forgot about being annoyed with Castiel and Celeste nuzzled Castiel's knee, hoping to offer comfort.

"Is there anything more important to you than Dean and me?" Sam asked. Challenged actually. "Anything in the world that matters more than what happens to us?"

It hit Dean then where this line of questioning ended and he made a mental note to give Sam a slap on the back later.

"No. Nothing," Castiel answered without hesitation. He dropped a hand away from Grace, under the table to clutch protectively at Celeste, fingers curling into the deep red mark over her shoulder. Dean sucked in a quick breath. He couldn't get used to the double punch of love and lust that slammed into him whenever Castiel touched that spot on Celeste. It made him hunch forward over the table and clench his box of noodles almost to the point of spilling them across his plate. He'd have to talk to Castiel about doing that in front of other people.

"That's what family is, Cas," Sam said sternly. "So just because you didn't grow up with us doesn't mean you get left out."

"I didn't..." Celeste's fur got knotted in Castiel's fingers. Dean set the box aside and concentrated on drawing deep breaths. "I didn't want to presume," Castiel murmured as he stared down at destroyed eggroll. "My last family-"

"Screw them," Sam said heatedly. If Dean wasn't focusing so hard on not moaning, he would have reprimanded Sam. Not that he didn't agree, but Castiel still loved his former brothers and Dean didn't want his feelings hurt. "I'm sorry, Cas, but family that leaves you behind is no family at all." Astrid laid her head on the table and turned kind eyes on Grace, who took a cautious step towards her, still unsure of her welcome. "You think you can't know what it's like to have a brother? Well, think again." Coaxing Grace forward, Astrid waited until Grace perched on her paw, then transferred Grace to her shoulder. "I'm your brother."

"I...I see," Castiel said. His eyes remained fixed on his plate, but his tone had changed, lightened with pleasure.

"So presume all you want," Sam offered. His tone lightened as well, lost its intensity and turned teasing. "Take some lessons from Dean."

Castiel finally removed his hand from Celeste and she sunk to the floor in a boneless heap, leaving Dean gasping for breath. When he didn't respond to the teasing, Sam peered at him.

"Dude, are you ok?"

"Yeah," Dean panted. "I was just thinking. If Cas is your brother, does that mean all those fangirls online were right about me and incest?"

Sam rolled his eyes and glanced sidelong at Castiel.

"Him? Really? Are you sure you want to be stuck with him for the rest of your life?"

A smile grew on Castiel's face. "It will be difficult, but I must carry on."

Dean and Sam stared at him. Then Dean crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his chair back on two legs, glaring at Castiel while Sam started laughing.

"What was that you said about watching something you can't experience?"

From the floor, Celeste shook off her glaze of sleepy pleasure and tackled Astrid and Grace. The three rolled into a tight confused knot and Dean felt a hundred emotions course through his veins. Affection, surprise, happiness, gratitude, mischievousness.

Love.

"You suck," Sam said, punching Dean's arm.

"Yeah, I know."


	3. Date Night

A/N: Another few weeks have passed!

Dean was comfortable.

Like bone-meltingly, soul-deep, life-fulfilling comfortable. The bed beneath him was old and soft in direct and sweet opposition to the stiff unyielding hotel beds he'd used for the last several weeks or the lumpy cold ground he'd slept on for the months before. Clad only in a pair of blessedly worn pajama pants, he lay on his stomach, one leg hitched up and his head pillowed on Castiel's thigh. Castiel sat up, pressed against the backboard. One hand stroked continuously through Dean's hair while the other held the book he read, some volume on vampires that Bobby'd lent him. On Cas' other leg sat Grace, who'd settled into a classic roosting pose, though she wasn't sleeping. Celeste lay in a heap between Dean's legs, her own head resting on Dean's knee.

Dean didn't want to move ever again. He didn't know if he really deserved a reward for helping save the world, but if he did, this was it. The strong steady motion of Castiel's fingers shifting through his hair lulled Dean towards sleep. Relaxed didn't even before to cover it. He was surprised he hadn't melted through the bed.

Just as he was on the edge of sleep, seconds away from tipping into unconsciousness, Sam burst through the door and began screaming.

Well, maybe not screaming, but he might as well have been for all the shock it gave Dean.

"Dude, do you have an cologne?" he asked and he immediately started searching in the bag that Dean'd only half unpacked. Dean's hand clenched into the pillow beside Castiel. He burrowed his face into Castiel's hip and without looking, launched the pillow at Sam's head.

"Get out of here," he growled. Castiel's hand settled on his neck, rubbing comforting circles into the now tense muscles.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Sam sounded distracted, as if Dean's ire wasn't worth much of his attention. It just figured. It'd been years since Dean could properly intimidate Sam. He heard a fluttering sound and lifted his head, peering over Castiel's legs. He wasn't at all surprised to see that Grace had landed in an open drawer and was now nosing around for the cologne Sam sought. Dean scowled at Castiel.

"Traitor," he muttered and pressed his forehead back into Castiel's leg.

"I thought the sooner we helped him find it, the sooner he'd leave," Castiel explained, but Dean smelled a rat. Castiel had become entirely too good at knowing exactly what Dean wanted to hear, but Dean had also become a master at knowing what Castiel really meant. And what he really meant was that he wanted to help Sam.

"Yeah, right." Heaving a put upon sigh, Dean reluctantly lifted himself into a sitting position. "Why'd you need cologne?"

"I have a date," Sam explained, a little breathless with what Dean assumed was excitement. Astrid jumped up on her front paws and peeked into the drawer below the one where Grace was covered in underwear. "With that girl, April? From the store?"

"Ok, yeah. April from the store," Dean agreed, giving Castiel a bewildered look. This was the first he'd heard of any girl or any store. And since when did Sam work that quickly? They'd only arrived at Bobby's place a few nights ago. Dean couldn't even remember if Sam had left the house. Although to be fair, Dean had been perfecting the art of napping ever since they'd landed back at Bobby's. Sara, Bobby's squirrel daemon, had accused Celeste of being a cat in disguise.

"Sam met her when we bought food at the grocery store yesterday," Castiel said.

"Oh oh, I see," Dean groused. "This is another one of your Sam-n-Cas super secrets," he said, making his voice more wounded than he really felt because honestly, he kind of liked that Sam and Castiel got along so well and he really liked that someone else was here to go to the grocery with Sam because Dean hated doing it himself.

"I'd have told you, but you were sawing logs on the couch," Sam said. "Aha!" With a triumphant grin, Sam pulled the bottle of Dean's rarely used cologne out of one of the bag's many side pockets.

"You actually have a date?" It began to sink in. Sam hadn't dated since...Dean thought hard. Madison? And he hadn't gotten laid since...Ruby. Dean made a face. It was way past time for Sam to go out and wash that particular taste out of his mouth.

"Yeah, sorry, not all of us can be old married people," Sam said and Astrid snorted. Celeste narrowed her eyes at Astrid.

"We are not old or married. Well, Castiel's kind of old, but our relationship is not. We've only been together for just over a month," Celeste countered smugly, nose in the air.

Grace then preceded to totally ruin the effect by flying over to land on Celeste's head, presumably to present a unified front. Dean stared at their daemons, glaring down at Astrid on the floor and sighed. Sam didn't bother to hide his glee. "Are you kidding me? Take a look around you, Dean," he said, gesturing around the room Bobby'd put them in. "You share a bed. You share a dresser. When I came in here, you were cuddling," he said, emphasizing the word 'cuddle' because he knew exactly how much Dean hated it. "Your daemons are like the same person. You're married."

"You're just jealous," Dean decided. "Besides, we know how to have fun, right, Cas?" He glanced to Castiel, but didn't give him time to respond. "We're going out tonight, in fact."

Pleasured surprise bloomed on Castiel's face, which of course sent the totally obvious message that Dean had just made up this date and meant that Dean had to choose to ignore Sam snickering in the doorway. "We are?"

"Yes," Dean said roughly. "We're going out to a bar and we're going to play pool and we're going to get drunk," he declared. Come to that, Dean didn't think Castiel had ever tried alcohol. How he'd let Castiel's human life go for so long without introducing him to beer, Dean didn't know. But that had to change. And while Dean would never admit this, he had been kind of lax lately in showing Castiel the good life. Relaxing was all well and good, but Dean had to make sure to keep the man happy.

"Oh, well in that case, have fun on your totally married date," Sam said and turned to leave. Dean threw the other pillow at the door and shouted after him.

"At least I'll get laid after _my_ date!"

Silence fell over the room after Sam's exit. After a long quiet moment, Castiel glanced at Dean and smiled shyly.

"Are we really going on a date?"

* * *

Their date really was more like a boy's night out. Unlike Sam, who planned on taking April to some kind of fancy ass restaurant and then to a play, Dean planned on taking Castiel straight to the bar. Maybe not the most romantic date in the world, but way more fun than wearing an ugly suit to a restaurant that served stuff 'under glass' and trying not to knock over any lit candles. Besides, judging from the fact that Cas was practically trembling with anticipation, Dean figured he was ok with the plan.

"I got to take you out more," he commented as they made their way through Bobby's living room.

Castiel's fingers found Dean's and he hooked his index finger around Dean's thumb. "I hadn't realized how much I wanted to spend time with you in this manner until you brought it up," he said. "I watched you spend so much time in bars. I'm very curious to discover why."

Dean couldn't decide whether he should feel guilty for neglecting this aspect of Castiel's human education or creeped out that the angel Castiel used to watch him hanging out in bars, hitting on women and getting shit-faced. He settled for grunting and tugging Castiel through the kitchen.

Bobby stood at the sink, hands plunged into soapy water. "You boys taking off?" he asked without bothering to turn around. Sara scampered up the side of his body to perch on his shoulders. She crossed her short arms over each other and gave them her typical fierce glower, the kind that still made Dean shiver slightly, despite himself. Her huge plumed tail curled over her shoulder, making her seem bigger than she really was.

"You best be careful and call us if you get too drunk," she commanded sternly.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean murmured while Castiel nodded solemnly.

"We'll take care," he promised.

"Ease up now, Sara," Bobby chided her, shaking his shoulder a little to bother her. "They can take care of themselves."

Sara frowned, but didn't say anything. Bobby's protectiveness showed itself in Sara's tendency to mother hen. Dean remembered the epic fights she used to get into with Amanda over that very tendency and he smiled. It was a good thing someone was there to remind Amanda of her duty to Celeste and Astrid, even if it did make Amanda feel like crap.

"Have fun," Bobby said. "Go on, get out of here."

They took his advice and soon were on their way to the nearest roadhouse. It was a joint Dean and Sam had occasionally visited during some of their stops at Bobby's house. Not the kind of place where they could hustle pool because the regulars would remember them and remember Bobby, but a good enough place to get a drink and talk about their latest case. Mostly rednecks and country music, but Dean didn't care because while he might dislike country music, rednecks were his kind of people.

The place wasn't too full, which suited Dean just fine. Less people to annoy him. Everything about the small smoky room appeared to enchant Castiel, who gazed around in wonder. Dean wasn't sure what captivated him so much. Surely not the clunky old jukebox in the corner or the pair of real honest-to-God moose antlers mounted on the wall. Of course, it could be like an angelic anthropological study or something. Disbelief at how the other half lived. Whatever it was, Castiel's eyes were gleaming with good humor, so Dean decided not to care why.

"Will you teach me to play pool?" Cas asked, running his fingers along the worn green velvet surface of an ancient pool table.

"Sure." Dean nodded to the bar. "First though, I'll get us a beer."

The bartender might have been the type of girl Dean would have flirted with in years past, though she was, in truth, too young for him now. Dean had thought he'd miss putting the charm on for pretty young things, but instead, it was sort of a relief not to worry about it. Castiel and Grace wandered away as he ordered the beers, over to examine the jukebox. An older woman with bleached blond hair and an enormous rack approached Cas and while Dean watched in breath-stealing amusement, offered him some quarters to pay for a song. Castiel missed the obvious flirtation, but allowed her to put the quarters in and spent a very long time examining the songs. Dean waited by the bar, too curious to join him just yet. As far as Dean knew, Castiel had only ever listened to the music on Dean's many mixed tapes. He doubted those songs would be on this particular jukebox. Castiel finally pushed a button and Dean smiled as Johnny Cash began to sing about laying in a field of stone.

"So what'd you think?" Dean asked, startling Castiel. He pressed the cold bottle into Cas' hand and gave the woman a friendly nod. Her eyes followed Grace's fluttering descent onto Celeste's shoulders and she returned Dean's smile with a knowing look. Picking up her cat daemon, she left them alone together.

"I like this man's voice," Castiel said decidedly. "It's rough, but full of emotion." He examined the beer bottle. "A gift from God."

"So's this beer, so drink up," Dean said.

Castiel drank. Not the sip Dean expected, but a full head tilting swig. He felt Grace sway on Celeste's shoulders, obviously overwhelmed by the bitter liquid now pouring down Castiel's throat.

"Whoa there, buddy," Dean said, grasping at Castiel's elbow. "Take it easy."

Castiel pulled the bottle away from his mouth and swallowed hard. He made a face Dean couldn't read. Not quite disgust, not quite pleasure.

"Well?"

"It's very strange," Castiel said.

"Strange good or strange bad?"

His eyebrows met in a frown. "Strange strange," he said. "But I'm willing to finish it."

"Well, I guess that's all I can ask," Dean said. "Come on. Let's play pool."

Teaching Castiel to play pool was way more fun than Dean expected. In part because Castiel couldn't grasp how he was supposed to hold the cue, so Dean had to hold it for him, pressing himself against Castiel's back as he demonstrated how to make a shot. The combination of the beer buzzing in his system and his close proximity to Castiel made Dean feel a bit high and he reveled in it. Some of the other customers gave them funny looks, but Dean just glared at them. The glare that didn't work on Sammy anymore, but apparently creeped out random hilljacks enough that they turned around and left the two of them alone.

While they played pool, Castiel drank beer. The taste stopped being strange, he confessed to Dean and became 'rather pleasant.' Really pleasant apparently because Castiel zipped through three beers in the time it took Dean to finish his first. Dean kept track of Castiel's consumption, but otherwise let him get on with it. Especially since Castiel began to mess up on purpose, just so Dean would have to show him how to hold the cue again. Dean took the opportunity to brush his lips over the skin behind Castiel's ear which made Cas shiver so hard that he knocked the cue ball away before he meant to and almost knocked it into Grace, who'd decided the only place to be was in the middle of the table.

"Whoops," he said and then giggled. Actually giggled like a thirteen year old girl. And that was when Dean realized that Castiel would be a fun-loving drunk. It was also when he decided to cut himself off at one beer and just watch Castiel lose it completely. After all, Castiel hadn't had the chance to have a reckless youth. Now was his opportunity.

They left the pool table when Castiel couldn't hold the cue straight anymore and kept hitting Dean in the stomach with it.

"Come on. Let's just sit down here," Dean said, steering him into a table set away in a dark corner. Celeste picked Grace up and laid her gently over her shoulders. Grace laughed and rolled down Celeste's back, off onto the floor.

"Ouch," she said merrily. Castiel slumped into his chair and grabbed Dean's hand.

"Thank you for making me bring me here, Dean," Castiel slurred. "I want you to always want me to do what you want to do."

"Um...ok," Dean agreed, checking to make sure Celeste had scooped Grace off the floor. The daemons joined them a moment later and Celeste set Grace carefully on the table, where she lay, gasping with laughter. It made for a strange picture. Quiet himself, Castiel only stared blankly at the bottle of hot sauce while his daemon tittered hysterically on the table.

"Dean," Castiel said, troubled now.

"What?"

"This says 'Bottled Hell'," he said, pointing anxiously at the hot sauce. "Why...does that mean...?"

Dean bit the inside of his mouth. "It's just means it's really hot," he explained gently. He brushed the back of his hand against Castiel's face and felt heat wafting off his skin. "Maybe we should take you home," he said. He hadn't intended to end the evening so early, but then he hadn't expected Castiel to be such a lightweight.

"Aren't you having fun?" Castiel asked, worried, his attention snatched away from the evil hot sauce. His blue eyes were bright and glazed, but distinctly concerned.

"Oh yeah," Dean reassured him and let himself finally grin. "I just think we should get you to bed before you fall over."

"Hmmm, bed," Castiel agreed, laying his head on his arms. "My mouth tastes like beer," he informed Dean from his arm, voice muffled.

"Well, you've been sucking it down like a pro," Dean said. "Come on." He glanced at Celeste, who nodded and nuzzled at Castiel's knee.

"Up you get, Cas," she said. He lifted his head and stared down at her, as if he'd never seen such a thing as a wolf daemon before, then a grin nearly split his face in two and his hands cupped Celeste's face.

"C'leste!" he exclaimed and to Dean's utter horror, leaned down to kiss her firmly on the head. An explosion of heat and insistent desire rocketed up Dean's spine, locking his knees and sending him tumbling back into his chair. His groin ached, his skin felt raw and he couldn't get a breath.

"Cas," he wheezed. "Stop it."

"Huh?" Looking over at him, head tilted, Castiel almost looked like his old self, like the politely puzzled angel he once was. "What?"

"Nothing," Dean breathed. "Just...just sit there for a minute and don't move," he gritted out. Castiel obeyed him, pulled his hands off Celeste and folded them in his lap while Dean tried to find any shred of control through the longing to drag Castiel out into the car and have his way with him. "You have to stop doing that in public," he muttered a moment later as he felt himself calm.

"Nngh," Castiel said, blinking sleepily.

Dean sighed. "Come on," he said again. This time Celeste stood well away as Dean tugged Castiel up from the table, though once Dean got him standing, she pressed into his other side to help keep him upright. They began to make their way to the door, but had only made it a few steps before Dean realized Grace was still laying like a slug on the table.

"Hey, Grace," he called back. She snorted and looked around, baffled. "We're leaving, babe," Dean told her.

"Oh," she spluttered and then took off, wings spread wide.

And flew straight into the wall.

The thunking sound made Dean wince in sympathy and the split second of indecision over whether to leave Castiel in Celeste's hands meant he wasn't fast enough to catch her. She slid down the wall and flopped onto her back, her small round blue eyes wide and staring.

"Ouch," Castiel complained.

People were looking at them again. Dean felt himself flush, but what he had to do couldn't be helped. Celeste jumped up on her front paws, using the table to balance her against Castiel and Dean strode over to Grace. His fingers closed around her soft warm body and he picked her up. Another wash of pleasure swept through him, similar to before, but less of an assault. More of an attack and Dean knew that Castiel's body was stuttering with desire now. Walking back to Castiel, Dean realized he would need both hands to keep his lover from falling over and glanced around helplessly.

"Crap." He looked down at his jacket, then back at Castiel. "Sorry about this," Dean said and then he shoved Grace into the front pocket of his jacket. Castiel moaned and lurched on his feet, his arms finding their way around Dean's waist, his lips on Dean's neck.

"Dean," he sighed. "Everywhere. Can feel you everywhere."

"Yeah, I know," Dean muttered and cursed the fact that Castiel would be in no shape to do anything about this once they got home. "Come on. Let's get out of here," Dean said to Celeste and they walked out the door, Celeste pressing Castiel into Dean from the other side and Castiel's soul in Dean's pocket.

The Impala was parked close luckily, so it didn't take them long to reach it and dump Cas in the backseat. Dean kept Grace in his pocket out of fear that she'd tumble into the floor and he got into the driver's side. Just sat there and stroked Celeste's shoulder.

"So apparently, Cas can't hold his liquor," Dean said to her. She nodded.

"Apparently." A sidelong glance and then she grinned. "That was a fun date though."

Dean smiled back. "Yeah, it really was."


	4. Ghost Story

A/N: This part takes place several years later.

Like always, Dean is the last one to get into bed that night. Even on those nights when Castiel takes sole responsibility of getting the kid to sleep, he somehow ends up in bed before Dean. It's a contributing factor to Dean's theory that Castiel still retains a bit of angel mojo. There are others, of course. Like the fact that whenever Castiel takes Temperance somewhere, she always returns in pristine clothing. Whereas when Dean takes her anywhere, she manages to look like she spent the afternoon rolling in filth. Last week, they went to the park together and Temperance ended up with a huge ice cream stain on her shirt even though they _didn't even get ice cream_.

Theory aside, Dean doesn't really mind always being the last one in bed. It reminds him of his dad and how John used to check around wherever they lived one last time each night after his kids were in bed, just to make sure everything was locked up tight and safe.

That and Dean might occasionally give into the nauseating urge to watch Castiel sleep.

When he isn't watching Temperance sleep, that is.

When Dean walks into the room, he knows immediately that Castiel isn't really asleep. Even though he is burrowed under the comforter and his face is smashed so far into his pillow that if Dean didn't already know it was Castiel, he wouldn't recognize him. He can tell because Grace is standing on Dean's pillow and staring at the door, clearly waiting for him.

"Did you lock the backdoor?"

Dean smirks. Leave it to Grace. As Castiel's humanity, Grace tends to worry about things like locking doors and eating healthy foods and sitting up straight more than any other human or daemon in their relationship.

In other words, she's the mom.

"It was already locked," Dean promises her. He feels her gaze on his back as he turns to change into pajama pants. "I checked it twice," he adds.

Whatever worry Grace feels is apparently melted away when Celeste hops onto the bed and starts trying to smother Grace under pounds of fur. The sound of Grace's weird garbled laughter follows Dean into the bathroom and he can't help the grin that plasters itself across his face. Nothing is quite as amusing as seeing or hearing Grace lose it.

The antics are over when Dean emerges from the bathroom. Celeste is curled into a tight ball at the foot of the bed and Grace is nestled into her usual place, the puffy soft fur of Celeste's tail. It's weird to Dean that his daemon has a 'usual place' for anything. But as he pries up the blankets to slide in beside Castiel, he finds that he doesn't mind much. He kills the light and relaxes into his pillow. There is a brief moment of calm, then with a suddenness that Dean adds to his list of angel mojo clues, Castiel flips over from facing the window to facing Dean. His arms snake around Dean's waist and he presses his nose into the crook of Dean's neck, dragging in a deep breath.

"Mmm," he says.

"Thought you were asleep," Dean comments, hand pressing into the small of Castiel's back.

"I am," Castiel says. His body loses all trace of tension or even the appearance of having bones as he melts into Dean's side.

"Well, ok, then."

He hears Castiel's light snores less than five minutes later. At his feet, Celeste shifts, tightening the ball she's making with her body and tugs Grace into the middle of it. Dean's sense of Castiel settles over him like an old familiar blanket and it's enough to push him off to sleep.

The scene is quite different when Dean is awakened several hours later. No longer pressed comfortably against Dean, Castiel is sprawled on his back. One arm is flung over his head and the fingers of his hand are curled under the bottom edge of the headboard. A visual that never fails to make Dean feel a little hot under the collar. Castiel's other hand is shoved up his own shirt and flat on his stomach. There is a small moving lump down the front of Castiel's t-shirt that Dean assumes is Grace. The bright white feathers sticking up over his throat are a dead giveaway.

Dean feels Celeste crawl up the bed and he reaches out for her, fingers twisting into the hair at the back of her neck.

"You're not gonna to try and crawl under my shirt, are you?"

"I thought about it," she murmurs back as she settles into the still warm spot Castiel had occupied earlier. It feels good to lie this way, arms wrapped around his oldest and closest friend. Comfortable and warm, enough to drag him back to sleep if it weren't for the fact that he doesn't know why he is awake in the first place.

"Why'd we wake up?" Celeste asks just as Dean has the thought.

His lips are forming the words 'I don't know' when the room brightens with a flash of lightning. Seconds later, it is followed by a tremendous crash of thunder, the kind that physically shakes the house from its base upwards.

"I'm guessing that was it," Dean says. Somehow, even though Dean actually felt the thunder in his spine, Castiel continues sleeping unawares. Dean has the feeling that Cas is the only one in the house still asleep and in fact begins to wonder how long it'll be before-

_BAM!_

The door to the bedroom explodes open, smashing into the side of the wall with another deafening noise that Castiel sleeps through. Dean releases Celeste in time to turn over and catch Temperance as she launches herself into the bed. She is trembling and still mostly asleep as far as Dean can tell. Her daemon, Jeff, flutters after her as a large monarch butterfly. He lands on Celeste and tumbles into the form of a tiny orange kitten that Celeste pulls into the same protective circle she'd formed around Grace earlier. His confused panic beats into Dean's senses.

"Hey, now," he says, sitting up and tugging Temperance into his lap, brushing a hand through her long dark hair. "It's ok. Just a storm; we're ok."

She shakes her head and when another peal of thunder quakes the house, she twists her hands into Dean's shirt, hiding her face in the soft cotton tee. He figures any sort of verbal explanation or comfort is probably not going to work on a sleepy four-year old, so he just wraps her up tight and lets her hide.

Castiel continues to snore lightly beside them.

The storm is at its height, Dean thinks. Or hopes anyway as the wind howls outside the window and lightning flashes time and again. With each clap of thunder, Temperance jumps and gives a tiny squeak of fright. Dean hates the sound more than just about any he's ever heard. It's stupid to be pissed at a storm, but it doesn't stop him. He hates anything scaring his kid that he can't fight against. If Castiel were awake, he would tell Dean that he can't stop Temperance from feeling any fear in her life. To which Dean would reply that he can try.

But Castiel's out cold and besides, he probably used to fly around inside of thunderstorms or something, so it's not like he knows what it's like for a kid that can't quite grasp why everything is suddenly so loud and bright.

It takes about half an hour for the storm to finally begin petering out. Temperance relaxes by inches with each lengthening pause between thunderclaps and Jeff's fur begins to lay flat once more. It's when the rain stops pelting heavily against the window that Temperance finally raises her head from Dean's shirt and peers around.

"You doing ok there, kiddo?" Dean asks.

She shrugs and brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes. Dean tries not to smile at how casual she is being. She hates when people see her being scared. Just like every other Winchester in the world. Still, while it might be somewhat endearing, Dean doesn't want her to become too bottled up and unable to express emotions. Because weird things happen when you become a parent and one of them is freaking out that you're going to screw up the emotional growth of another human being.

Although that's not as strange as say, Dean's obsession with maintaining Temperance's waist length black-brown hair. It's not because he suddenly likes hair. It's just because Temperance insists on having long hair and if someone doesn't brush it every single day, she gets these massive matted knots in them and looks like she's been pulled through a bush backwards. So Dean's assigned himself the task. He compares the job to taking care of the car, except the Impala doesn't squirm and giggle while he tries to put a braid in it.

"Storms are pretty scary," he says, casual as well.

"I wasn't scared," she denies, rubbing at her eyes with the back of one hand. "Jeff was."

Jeff, who is now laying on his back while Celeste noses at his soft belly fur, glares at her.

"Shut up," he whines, but he doesn't sound too concerned. Probably because of the waves of bliss Dean knows he's feeling as Celeste grooms him. Just in case though, Dean heads the fight off at the pass.

"Well, it doesn't matter either way. It's ok to be scared. I get scared sometimes," Dean says. Temperance doesn't know the depth of truth to that statement or that her father sometimes still wakes up in a cold sweat, dreams of blood and torment clinging to his mind. Some things kids just don't need to know.

"Of the storm?" Her voice is tentative.

"Sure," Dean says and it's not technically a lie because even though this particular storm hadn't scared him, he remembers being nervous about thunder when he was very young. In fact, he even has a faded and beloved memory of invading his own parents' bedroom during a bad storm and crawling in between his mom and dad. He can't recall much except the feeling of total safety.

"Oh," she says, sounding a bit impressed. The way she is sitting across Dean's lap means that her legs are sticking out towards Castiel. She presses down on Cas' upper arm with her feet. "What about Papa?"

"Scared of the storm?" Dean looks at Castiel, at the way his body is carelessly relaxed, his mouth hanging slightly open as he draws deep and steady breaths. Clearly, he can't be less concerned about the weather if he tried. But Dean has seen Castiel scared before. Terrified even. Terrified of disobedience. His own feelings. Losing Dean. Becoming a father.

"Well, I think he's scared of other stuff more than a storm." No reason to lie to the kid. After all, it should be nice to know that one of them isn't scared. "But yeah, everyone gets scared. Uncle Sammy is scared all the time."

Temperance made a face at him. "You're making that up."

This confirms Dean's suspicions that Sam's taken Temperance aside and advised her not to believe what Dean says about him.

"Yeah, I am," he agrees and kisses the top of her head. "You wanna go back to bed?"

She eyes the window, troubled and indecisive. Another faint rumble of thunder decides for her. Shaking her head violently enough to send streamers of dark brown flying about her head, she climbs off Dean's lap and turns to face him, sitting cross legged in the space between him and Castiel.

"No. I want to tell you a story."

Most kids want stories told to them. Temperance is far too dramatic for passive listening. She always makes up the story.

"Ok," Dean agrees, turning onto his side, body curling enough to make a little wall around Temperance. Celeste leans back against his stomach when Temperance snatches Jeff up, apparently needing his help to tell her tale. "What kind of story?"

Her voice lowers to a hissing whisper. "A ghost story," she declares seriously, head bowed as she peers at him in what she clearly believes is a spooky expression. Really, the only missing is the flashlight to hold up under her chin.

Dean blinks. Only his child would climb into bed with her parents out of fear and then tell a ghost story to cheer herself up.

"Alright. Bring it."

Then, before he can stop her, Temperance reaches over and thumps Castiel on the chest. Hard. His eyes fly open and he shoots up. Grace slides down his stomach and falls out of his shirt into his lap with a choking cry. Dean tries not to find it terribly endearing when Castiel peers around wildly, searching for the source of the disturbance in utter sleep-induced confusion. Grace flops around, trying to right herself. When Cas' eyes fall onto Temperance, they clear a bit, but he still looks pretty bewildered.

"Temperance?"

"I want you to hear my story too," she says as if this is sufficient explanation for why she's in bed with them or why he was just violently snatched from a deep sleep. To his credit, he recovers pretty quickly. The confusion doesn't fade, but he sinks back into the bed. He turns like Dean has, so that he is facing her. Grace, who finally found her feet, hops over to join him. Dean is not the least bit surprised when Jeff struggles out of Temperance's hands, transforms into a sparrow and scampers to Grace's side. Jeff's been going through a copycat stage lately when it comes to Grace. He loves nothing better than turning into some kind of small bird and racing Grace through the air.

"Very well," Castiel says calmly and when Temperance looks away, he shoots an inquisitive glance in Dean's direction. Dean's grin is meant to convey the idea that he will explain later and the message must transmit because Castiel only raises an eyebrow at him before focusing on Temperance.

"Ok," she says. "Once upon a time-"

"Hang on," Dean interrupts. "What kind of ghost story starts with 'once upon a time'?"

"Daddy," Temperance whines, "Papa says it's rude to interrupt."

This from the man who used to literally appear out of nowhere into Dean's business, no matter what else Dean was doing. Dean ignores the hint of smugness on Castiel's face and just waves a hand at Temperance.

"Right, sorry 'bout that. Please continue."

"Anyway," she starts again. "Once upon a time, there was a haunted car."

"Cool," Dean says without thought, even though he once dealt with a ghost car and it was so totally not cool. It's just awesome that Temperance loves cars as much as Dean does because he may have lead the horse to water and all that, but he couldn't force the kid to like cars. Sam makes fun of Dean for all the car lessons, but Dean figures it's a parent's job to pass on their interests to their kids. And it's not like he's the only one doing it. Temperance also loves Sunday school.

"It was a big black car and there was a ghost living in it!" Temperance continues, voice rising on her dramatic reveal. Dean chooses not to question the concept of a ghost 'living' anywhere and instead looks appropriately surprised.

"Yeah?" he prompted.

Beside them, Castiel makes a small noise and it takes Dean a moment to realize it's a half-swallowed yawn. For half a second, he's irritated with him. Until he really looks at Cas. He is blinking reddened eyes and struggling to focus on their child. Then Dean remembers it's the middle of the friggin' night and the poor guy is clearly exhausted. He knows the gesture will in no way help, but it doesn't stop him from dropping a hand to the back of Castiel's head and stroking his fingers through Cas' hair. Castiel's eyelids immediately droop to near closed. Luckily, Temperance doesn't seem to notice, so Dean just continues petting Castiel's head while she continues her story.

"Uh huh and the ghost's name is George," Temperance explains. Hardly a surprise, Dean thinks. Temperance favors the name George and has given it to nearly everything in their house. In fact, the big black car that Dean suspects is the star of this story was christened 'George' sometime last year.

"Does George know he's a ghost?" Castiel asks sleepily, surprising Dean, who kind of thought he'd drifted off again.

"No!" Temperance trembles with excitement at this new plot development. Tiny flapping noises draw Dean's attention to Jeff, who is flying in a small circle around Grace's head. "No, because he used to be a hunter and he thinks he should get rid of the ghost in the car, except he is the ghost!"

"So he's hunting himself?"

Dean actually feels a bit of a chill at the idea. Maybe he's just come too close to the same fate to not feel a little twinge of discomfort. Again, not something Temperance knows or should know. She knows about hunting because the Winchesters' fame means they are visited by hunters all the time, but Dean doesn't think she really knows what they do, beyond getting rid of ghosts.

"Uh huh," she confirms. "But he is being hunted too because the car belongs to a hunter named John."

Dean smiles. Again, he is not surprised. Lately, Temperance's insatiable curiosity has turned to families and to questions like why she has two fathers when most of her little friends don't and where Dean and Castiel's parents have gone. Not the easiest conversations in the world. When Temperance finds out that Castiel didn't really have parents like her and Dean, she spends the rest of the day in a quiet funk and refuses to be separated from Castiel's side.

On the other hand, she adores stories about Dean's parents and seems to have developed something of a hero worship for John. Which again is probably Dean's fault because he's grown enough to realize that John didn't always handle things the right way and since having Temperance he literally cannot believe John ever left his kids alone the way he did, but Dean still adores the man and always will. It's just the way parents and kids work, he thinks. At least in this family.

"Every night, he sat next to the car and waited for George to show up," Temperance says and her voice lowers again. She looks back and forth between them and a quick check tells Dean that Castiel's eyes are still opened, though just barely.

"And then one night and it was really dark outside, it finally happened," she whispered. "John heard footprints."

Castiel's eyes widened. "Wait a minute," he says. "He heard foot_prints_?"

He sounds more awake than he has since Dean climbed into bed earlier in the night. It just figured too. Much like Dean struggles with Temperance's hair, Castiel is locked in an epic battle with her grammar and vocabulary. Something about dealing with prophecies and sacred script in every language ever known for thousands of years has made Castiel a real hardass about these things.

"Yeah." She pauses, peering at Castiel as if trying to decide why he interrupted her. "Ghosts can make noise, Papa," she finally explains.

"I see," Castiel says, evidently deciding to let it go for now. Probably because he is still somewhat perplexed about why she is telling this story in the first place. But Dean feels certain the subject of footprints versus footsteps will be bought up again.

"So footprints, huh? Was it George?" Celeste asks, trying to get them back to the story.

"Yup and he had a gun! Only it was a ghost gun, so John wasn't scared. So he asked George why he was still a ghost and George got mad and he said that John was the ghost and he was mad because John was always in his car and it used to be his brother's car and so George didn't like it when people messed with his brother," Temperance says in what must be the longest run-on sentence Dean's heard in quite some time.

"Can't blame him for that," Dean says. He'd come back too and kick some ass as a ghost if someone were messing with Sam.

"I want a brother," Temperance comments suddenly. Dean's hand stills on Castiel's head and the two of them just stare at her for a long moment.

"Um," Dean says.

"We'll see," Castiel adds.

"What did John do?" Dean hopes the question will swerve Temperance off the topic of possible younger siblings and back onto her story. Judging by the way she has started rubbing at her eyes, he won't have to worry too much about her pursuing the subject. In fact, before answering, she presses one hip against the mattress and spins her legs out, lying down in the warm space between Dean and Castiel. Jeff changes into a mouse and crawls down the front of her nightgown. Like father, like daughter, Dean thinks.

"He told George that he wasn't doing anything to his brother and that George should go on up to Heaven where his brother was anyway," Temperance says, her words muffled because her cheek is pressed against the crook of her arm. "George was a little scared of leaving Earth, so John said a prayer and some angels came and walked with him when he left," she finishes, sleep creeping into her voice.

Over her head, Dean and Castiel exchange a glance. Temperance knows Castiel is different somehow, but they haven't had the 'So one of your fathers was an angel' talk yet. Every time she mentions angels, it reminds Dean that they'll have to have this discussion sooner or later. He just hopes she doesn't have her heart set on being in a normal family.

"That's a nice story," Dean says as Castiel reaches over to rub soothing circles onto her back.

It's true. It's a hell of a lot nicer than most of the ghost stories he's lived. Temperance mumbles something that might have been thanks before she drops off. The room is quiet for a long moment, then Castiel turns on his stomach, face turned towards Dean.

"Dean?"

"It was storming."

"Oh."

"So tell me, have you ever ferried the departed soul of some poor schmuck back upstairs?"

Castiel makes a face at him. "I wasn't a reaper. Though angels have been known to welcome souls into Heaven."

"Gotcha," Dean says and pretends it doesn't still freak him out that Castiel used to be an angel.

There is another long pause that Grace and Celeste use to get resettled against one another. Dean grabs the hand Castiel's hidden under his pillow and breathes out a deep sigh, comforted by the very human warmth radiating from Castiel's skin.

"Night, Cas."

"Hmm," Castiel sighs and just a moment later, he is asleep once again. Dean snorts and yeah, maybe he watches them until sleep claims him as well. Which is still totally sappy, but oh well.

Sometimes a little sap isn't such a bad thing.


End file.
